


After the Winter There is No Spring

by oncealiceswann



Series: The Cold [1]
Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Wild Target (2010)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Crossover, Multi, alternative universe, guixon - Freeform, mentioned johnlock, to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:45:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncealiceswann/pseuds/oncealiceswann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chronicle of Hector Dixon and Peter Guillam, till death do them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Far Beyond Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Ah... My computer really sucks. But hopefully... I'll finish this.

      On John's table there stated the most precious photographs of his life. In his sixties he treasured them even more than he did when he was young. Once in a while he'd take them and admire those beautiful moments of his life.

      Most of them had he and Sherlock in. Some showed sweetness, some showed pain, but they all recorded the meaningful lifetime they shared and the storms they got through together. Some of the pictures showed his family: Harry, who was still living not very far away from Sussex with Clara; their parents dancing in the snow; and a large family photo showing Sherlock, mother, Harry and him. He could remember those happy moments clearly after all those years.

      But among them only one of the photos showed his younger brother, Hector. People who don't know him would hardly know he was a cruel assassin throughout his life by seeing this picture. In fact it showed a very rare moment of Hector.

      He was smiling; not the kind of smile he usually put on when he's on a task, showing his white teeth; he looked sweet, gentle, and shy. There was a little pink on his face, showing he was happy. But the most unusual thing was the man beside him. Beside this cold, cruel assassin, a tall blond was smiling softly, looking at Hector with so much love and care. He wrapped his left arm around Hector's waist, and that made John chuckle. His stupid, stubborn brother. He could always remember this, remember Hector.

      The one who had an unusual, however great life.

      

      


	2. The First Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer really sucked...

         Please my guardian angel

         Let me see my love again

         In the mercy I thrive

         Shelter me, as I shelter mine

         --- Heart's Desire, Dreamtale

 

         It wasn't the way Hector looked that impressed Peter, and neither was it the way he acted.  
         It was the unique attraction he had towards Peter. In 1963, he was just a graduated student with almost no work experience, and Hector, of course, wasn't for some nobody like him to spy on. In fact, he knew this name from one of his colleagues on one summer afternoon, when they were relaxing and having tea in the office.  
         'You don't know Dixon?' He looked up from his cup and stared at Peter through his thin glasses in surprise. 'Well, it's not really surprising, I should have known that.' He said, putting his cup aside and cleared his throat. Peter swallowed. 'So he is somebody... Somebody I should know in my work?'  
         'Guillam.' Ethan began slowly, 'you are a spy. It takes time for you to get used to this work. And here, Dixon is someone you must know. He's the master among all criminals; but compared to his fame among spies and detectives, it seems that nobody really knows he commited those crimes. He's just as normal as a fly in the crowds.'  
         Peter listened carefully and frowned. 'So I guess he's much older than we are, isn't he? A mature criminal?'  
         Ethan looked surprised and shook his head. 'I'm 37 now, Guillam. Of course one has to be younger to commit those crimes... But the thing is, Guillam, he's even younger than you.'

         Peter was shocked. His heart clenched with a sudden feeling. It was neither shame nor hate but pity, and admiration. What could he have been through to make him such a heartless assassin at such a young age? And how young could he be when his hands were covered in blood for the first time? He felt great courage in this young assassin. The courage he needed to give up his peaceful life to--- to what? That wasn't quite the question for Peter to answer. 

         And so that was what Peter thought of Hector before they met.

         ***

         Peter liked spring in Germany, which reminded him of his childhood: Wild flowers here and there where no human beings appeared, old trees and churches, and new-built historical buildings over the ruins of war. In this time of the year, having some coffee under an aged tree seemed to be a good way to get relaxed.

         Peter sat under the tree and let out a happy sigh. Of course, he was on a mission here, a very simple one which allowed him to take his time and have no worries about safety. After all, he was just a green hand there, who'd know he was a spy?

         It was Sunday, and there weren't many people on the street, for many of them went into the church. On the street he could only see old people taking tough kids to shops while shouting at them to shut them up once in a while; foreigners selling newspapers banned in their mother lands; mysterious women with their dogs showing up from nowhere, and with their dogs disappearing into nowhere.

         Peter sat there, studying these people. His career required him to make every effort to learn to deduce, and studying foreign people could be good practice. German, German, German. German was all he could hear. He had just started learning German, and he was improving quickly, but at this very moment, English seemed to be more needed by him. Or meeting someone from his mother land. In a foreign country hoping for that wasn't that strange.

         So his eyes searched up and down the street but he knew none of them was British(of course, Germans are recognisable as well as the British, especially when the observer is a spy), until two men came into his sight. He immediately recognised that they were Englishmen: maybe it was the sixth sense of a spy? Anyway, he jumped up, ready to show up and discuss the weather with them. He would tell himself not to do this if he were an experienced spy, but he wasn't. He was Peter Guillam, the just-graduated student.

         As he got near he could see them both clearly. There was a tall, strong guy dressed in black, obvious for the silly look on his face; why would he wear sunglasses on such a cloudy day anyway? Maybe he wanted to look cool but failed, and what was more it made him more stupid. Moreover, he had a foolish grin which anyone could recognise him by. Peter snorted inside. Since he was a spy, some people seemed extremely silly to him.

         But behind that big guy went a quite small man--- or boy, Peter thought. He seemed young enough to be in college. He had beautiful blond hair which Peter admired, and guessed that maybe his ancients were Saxons. Saxons had blond hair, hadn't they?

         He was also dressed in black, his face was very pale, and he was very thin. The image of him would be looking a bit frightening if there weren't a stupid guy by his side.

         'Hi, nice weather today.' Peter came towards them and said, with his eyes fixed on the blond. There was something about him that he couldn't take his eyes off him.

         'Get away, stranger.' The stupid-guy-with-a-foolish-grin snapped. Peter was about to laugh at him when the blond raised a hand to stop his conpanion. 'Don't be rude, Fabian. And could you remember next time that I am the leader? Don't act without my word.' 'Sorry, sir.' The stupid-guy stared at Peter with anger but didn't say anything more.

         'Sorry, he was just an idiot,' the blond nodded at Peter and said, 'Yeah. Nice weather. Have a good day, sir.' He turned to leave.

         What? He wasn't surprised about meeting a British in Germany? Well, honestly there wasn't anything strange indeed, but at least he should greet the stranger, and surely he left too early. Of course Peter wasn't going to discuss the weather, it was just the subject to get him talking. So Peter called from behind.

         'Yes?' The blond replied a bit impatiently. He must be on his way to somewhere, Peter thought.

         'Where are you going?' Peter regretted saying this as soon as he finished, 'I mean I think I can go along with you two. It's good to have a companion while walking, you know.'

         'Didn't you notice that I have already had a companion?'The blond frowned.

         'But... Hey, I was thinking that you might like to have a cup of coffee with me under the tree.' Said Peter, raising the cup in his hand.

         'The blond looked amused. 'I don't know why you insist on this, but I've got to go now, Mister. Good luck.' He turned back for the last time and with his companion disappeared into nowhere.

         ***

         The mission went well, or so it seemed. On the third day Peter had collected all the information he needed, and decided to go back. He'd have forgotten the unpleasant meet with the two Englishmen if his boss hadn't sent him a telegram to tell him to stay there longer.

         He received the telegram when he was about to rush to the airport. Another murder, this time in Germany, somehow the victim was a British spy. To protect the other spies, his boss decided to let him stay there and investigate, since he thought Peter was the last spy the assassins would take into consideration. 'That's me, a fucking sacrifice.' Peter thought to himself. But he had to obey the orders. Damn it.

         The assassination happened in Frankfort, not far from where he was staying. This could be a great chance, Peter thought, it seemed important. If he could find out the killer... Well, all his colleges would look up to him, and of course, he could get some money from this. That was what made him decide to clime into the place where the spy was killed at night with great courage.

         It wasn't hard work. German government kept the assassination a secret, so it was easy for him to get to the place. He managed to know a local police who gave him the map, so he followed the instructions and went. He wasn't really familiar with the city, so he walked through the streets like a wanderer. His heart skipped a beat when he recognised the place where he met a blond, and he walked on in the direction which the blond headed. 'Where's he going?' He thought. Along the side there were some coffee shops and small stores, but less and less as he walked. To his surprise, he was led into a suburban area. The map showed that he was close to the target.

         At last he stopped in front of a wooden house. It looked very old, as there was dust everywhere; the door was slammed but not quite closed. Peter walked round it, and found a window. He carefully looked inside. 

         There was somebody inside.

         The police went here yesterday and took away the dead body. They had also finished investigating. So who could it be?

         It would be dangerous if he just stepped inside. Far too many innocent people were killed by the assassins. Sometimes they just killed because they could, even if it was not necessary. The best way to get in was...

         The door opened. A guy got out. 

         Peter froze. It was the sunglasses he met the other day!

         'Sir!' The guy called loudly which gained a 'shush!' from his boss. Then the blond showed up.

         'There's nothing to fear, Fabian,' he said, his cold eyes searched up and down Peter's body, 'A spy. Good. You can get inside now. I'll deal with this.' Fabian nodded, and within a moment he disappeared.

         'I wasn't--- I---'

         'It's no use apologising. I don't like spies. You can't trust a spy, can you?' He flashed his teeth. God, again Peter couldn't take his eyes off the blond, though this was strange after all.

         'And it's no use denying,' added the blond, 'I knew you. Peter Guillam. You'll have to pay for it if you dare to arrest me.'

         Arrest? Why?

         Peter quickly searched in his mind to find a reason to arrest the blond. He seemed to know him. Someone had described this guy to him before. Now he knew for sure that this was a guy he knew. After a  moment he worked out who this guy really was.

         Hector Dixon, of course.

 

       


	3. A Little Fragment

      I send vibrations

      Your direction

      From a satellite mind

      ---- Satellite Mind, Meltic

 

      Day One, living with Hector Dixon.

      If Peter had diary, it would definitely read that way. Fortunately he hadn't.

      It was really a stupid way to avoid being spied on, but surely Hector judged him before he made the decision. His boss would say it was a nice chance. A nice chance to spy on him. But why would Hector decide to do this if he knew he would be spied on?

      That was the question.

      ***

      It was after Hector came home from his target work that things began to become better.

      Peter was curious about that little man, but he ignored the urge to look around and take a view of Hector's things and stayed in his own room all day. Not that he was afraid of Hector. He was a little man, but Peter could sense that he had a huge ego, so he just wanted to respect him. 

      But it didn't mean he didn't  _observe._ As a spy(although inexperienced), he knew every little detail of the target could be helpful. And somehow discovering Hector's small habits seemed interesting to him.

      Hector was indeed a detailed man. Everything in his room was clean and tidy, obviously arranged by its owner even it was the first day he moved in. The books were laid in the order of capital letters, which was a miracle since it was done in one day. Peter studied a few of them, but put them back before Hector was back.

      It was when Hector came back that Peter found another amazing thing about him.

      He could cook delicious dinner.

      Peter had cooked in university, but it was after he became a spy that he began to learn the art of cooking! and he never liked tidying his room. Surely he wasn't the housewife kind! However, to his surprise, Hector seemed to be gifted in doing housework. How did he learn to do this if he became a hitman at a very young age?

      And Hector prepared dinner in twenty minutes. 'Not much,' he said to Peter, showing his flashing teeth, 'I don't eat much when I work.' He nodded at Peter and handed him a plate. 'I thought you would like to have some steak,' he added, 'and obviously you don't know how to cook.' He narrowed his eyes as if saying 'You don't know how you'll die'.

      'Thank you,' Peter smiled, 'you really are good at cooking.' It amazed him to see Hector lowered his head and blushed. But it was just a few seconds before he turned away and snorted while muttering some curses under his breath.

      Hector only had some vegetables. 'I'm not vegetarian,' he noticed Peter staring at him and simply answered, 'but eating meat would probably destroy my senses.'

      'That's nonsense,' Peter interrupted, 'there's nothing wrong with eating meat.'

      'Why, it's none of your business,' the assassin said, 'I don't want meat, end of discussion. Otherwise I will---'

      He was cut off by Peter's laughter. Hector stared at him in anger. 'What's so funny about me?' He asked.

      But Peter didn't answer him directly. 'How old are you?' He asked.

      Hector hesitated for a while, but curiosity made him reply. 'Nineteen,' he answered, 'why?'

      Again, Peter didn't answer his question directly. He nodded and said, 'Good. Because I'm twenty-two. So there are only three years between us. And in a way...' He smiled and reached out his hand across the table to hold Hector's. Hector jumped slightly, but didn't draw back. Peter chuckled. 'It's only a table's distance. See? I know what is happening.' He leaned in to whisper in Hector's ear, which made the little man shake. 'You invited me to live with you because you are attracted by me. Fortunately this happened to me, too. You are adorable,' he bit Hector's earlobe which made Hector struggle but failed. 'I say, why don't we try? Why don't we...' He pulled back a bit to stare at Hector.

      And he moved closer.

      God. Hector closed his eyes helplessly. A devil, Peter must have been. He's closer now, closer, closer---

      Good. Peter's tongue invaded Hector's mouth, forcing him to open his mouth. At first Hector protested, but it was not long before he lost the strength to defend. Once he opened his mouth, Peter's tongue immediately slipped in and explored every corner of his mouth. He leaned back anod moaned.

       'Right.' Peter chuckled when they broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against Hector's. 'It's a good start.' He gained a dazed Hector for a while, but within one minute Hector raged.

        'For God's sake!' He cried, running off into his own room in his fastest speed and locked the door behind him, leaving a giggling Peter in the living room.

     


End file.
